


Stars From Our Eyes

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Married Couple, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Portia feels stuck in her magical studies. Struggling to help her, Nadia looks to otherworldly solutions.
Relationships: Portia Devorak/Nadia
Kudos: 12





	Stars From Our Eyes

The kitchen staff is off for the night, leaving only the hum and clack of Portia getting out the tea set. Nadia perches on the long table, a seat she would not have taken in other company. Cinnamon lingers in the air from the evening’s dessert. It reminds her of Portia’s cottage, though it lacks knitted blankets and Pepi underfoot.

“Wanna see what Aisha showed me?” Portia asks.

“I’d love to.”

Portia cradles the kettle with as much care as she would Pepi. Where some magicians close their eyes, she watches intently, her cheeks puffing. It’s enough of a show.

She blows out. “Um, let me try that again.” She pulls up her sleeves, rubs her palms, and grasps the kettle. It rattles as steam shoots from the spout, and Portia yanks her hands away. Her whoop harmonizes with the kettle’s whistle.

“My, how impressive.”

“Right? I’m close to being a full-fledged magician.” She continues making the tea without sparks or shimmering whorls. “It’s just a little trick, but… I’ve always wanted to do magic.”

How often has Portia said such things? Her dreams span continents and disciplines, yet she spends her days at Nadia’s side, ordering others to their tasks. Even as countess consort, that hasn’t changed.

As they go out to the veranda, Nadia contemplates what more she can share with Portia, beyond the moonlit pearls at her neck and the comfort of the cushions beneath her. Chandra soars overhead, unencumbered yet close. While Nadia sips her tea, Portia continues chatting about her lessons. Enthusiasm carries her through a whole cup before she stares into her own tea.

“Is something wrong?” Nadia asks.

“No. It’s everything I could ask for.”

Nadia lays her fingers around the bare skin of Portia’s wrist. A matching pearl string, she notes for later. “Darling, you needn’t hold back around me.”

“It’s just, I feel like other students would learn this stuff faster. That spell I did was supposed to be easy. I hate to sound like Ilya, but I wish I could just… see how it all works.”

“Perhaps I can assist with that.”

Not so long ago, Portia would have insisted Nadia not trouble herself. Now, she almost bounces out of her seat. “Really?”

Nadia chuckles and rises. She leads Portia into the gardens, finding a spot with a variety of flowers as well as trees, statues, and a palace wall—a banquet for Portia’s plucking. It all drops away when Nadia pulls on her pool of magic, inviting it to rush as a waterfall. Her forehead tingles with her mark as she taps into another reality.

When she looks directly, flashes all but blind her before disappearing. She rubs her temple and looks sidelong, as if through a film, before magic remains in her vision. Even then, it shifts and undulates in a way she once found grotesque. Like blood, viscous yet fluid. It awes her now, the raw life of it, the chance to always become something more.

Even if Portia can’t see it, an aura like starlight emanates from her. Nadia takes her hands. “Do you trust me?”  
  
“Always,” Portia says.

Magic flows between them. Rather than permeate Portia, it settles around her as if to adorn her fingers, her arms, her ears—to wrap her in a gown of everything she deserves. Her eyes light up in the opalescent glow. “Oh, oh my god, this is…”

“Is it too much?”

“No, it’s incredible! You’re incredible!” Portia launches herself against Nadia. Laughing with her, Nadia holds her upright.

“Still, think of it as getting used to your land legs, hm? Shall we take a short stroll?”

Holding her arm, Portia describes everything from swirling designs on the statues to a winged creature disappearing amidst the wisteria. She gestures toward an archway. A flat, round shape shines in the middle like a mirror.

“So that’s what the portal looks like,” she says. She swivels around. “I wonder if—there!” She points behind the hedges, where the top of a similar shape pokes out against the wall.

“How keen of you. Were you aware of that one?” Nadia asks.

“Nope. Wanna see where it goes?”

“Why not? The two of us can handle whatever lies in wait.”

Likely only dust bunnies and disorientation, but Portia vibrates harder. Squeezing against the wall, they slip around the hedges. They crouch through the portal. It sucks at all of their edges, more intense with Nadia’s intuition active. She clutches Portia’s hand until it stops.

Trying to right herself, Nadia almost smacks her head against glass. She maneuvers into the cool, dark room, her magic illuminating bottles and barrels.

“My, my. It seems burglars have a way into the wine cellar,” Nadia says.

“Even I never found that one. We’re probably the first.” Portia grins, as bright in a musky cellar as she was in the gardens. Nadia picks through the bottles.

“Then we may as well celebrate. Though I had better deactivate my power, or this could become unpleasant.”

“You can turn it on and off? Just like that?”

Even that much is difficult to explain. Nadia’s mind turns as she selects a Golden Goose. As glad as she is to show Portia a good time, she meant to help more.

That is a problem for the future. Tonight is for bubblier affairs.

* * *

The next day, Nadia sits at her workbench, balling up yet another design. She’s scrapped the idea of a pearl bracelet, along with a dozen other materials. If only she had Navra’s skill at making jewelry. She treasures handmade gifts most, whether it’s Portia’s baked goods or Asra’s wedding gift—a painting of the Star and High Priestess, paw-in-wing.

She covers a page with stars, thinking of the light in Portia’s eyes and that blinding aura. How can she help Portia learn something so intuitive that Nadia once shut it out? It is not like demonstrating clockwork, each gear turning in its proper place.

As she links the stars in a loose constellation, an idea occurs to her. She bites her lip. Even now that they’re married, there are pieces of herself she hasn’t shown Portia. Parts she’s hoarded, in case Portia should regret her choice.

 _Always_.

If Portia trusts Nadia to help, it is only right she do so properly.

* * *

Too soon and not soon enough, Nadia leads Portia into her contemplation tower. They sit cross-legged, facing each other, on cushions protecting them from the cold marble. Nadia breathes in jasmine and listens to the tumbling waterfalls, willing herself to calm.

“It’s always so peaceful in here,” Portia says, voice hushed.

Most people do not get this far. After Portia cared for Nadia’s comatose body, it felt natural to trust her with Nadia’s meditation. How can Nadia do anything but look after her in return?

She holds Portia’s hands, stroking her callused palms with her thumbs. “I consulted with Asra about this, but I cannot know for sure what will happen.”

“Then it’ll be an adventure,” Portia says with a wink. Nadia smiles and guides them in a trance, until her breathing melds with Portia’s, and Portia’s with the water.

She opens her eyes to a familiar island with a single drooping tree. A facsimile of Portia’s hands still clasps hers, a surreal sight over the glittering sand.

“So this is your—what was it? Personal gate?”

“Yes. I used to come here all the time, whenever I needed to be alone with my thoughts.” Nadia looks around the island’s perimeter and the waterfalls enclosing it. As a child, it had been the perfect size to take refuge from everyone larger than her. “It is, perhaps, not as much to explore as you might have hoped.”

“Are you kidding? This is the best! We’re inside your brain?”

“Well… Yes.”

Portia squeezes her hand. “It’s beautiful.”

All Nadia can do is dip her in a kiss. Without the need to breathe, it takes all her willpower to separate, not to buoy herself in Portia’s essence in this timeless place.

“So, I’m a good kisser in your head, huh?” Portia asks.

“The best in any realm, dearest. Unfortunately, I hoped to experiment with more than that today.”

Out of thin air, Nadia plucks a great purple blossom. She presents it to Portia and pins it to her shirt.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Portia says.

“This is my imagination, after all. And yours, now. You can summon anything with willpower and creativity—and I know you lack neither.”

Portia steeples her fingers. After a moment, a thick mat appears at her feet. She tests its springy consistency before bouncing up, higher and higher, to grab a fruit off the tree.

“How resourceful,” Nadia says.

“Hey, magic is hungry work.” She takes a bite, dripping juice down her chin. The juice disappears with a wave of her hand.

“You are already a natural.”

“You really think so?” Portia pokes the fruit’s tender skin. “If only this worked in the real world.”

She wanders to the beach’s edge. Sand from the water rises around her feet, making Nadia’s world larger. There is still more Nadia can do to return the favor.

“I thought someone else might help you with that,” Nadia says.

She brings Portia to a magical gate, ensuring it’s stable before leading Portia through. They emerge between stone columns swathed in purple night. Nadia traces a glyph on the stone while Portia drinks in the view, until feathers rustle behind them.

“Who have we here?” the High Priestess coos. Portia points, open-mouthed.

“You’re, you’re the, like in our painting—”

Nadia swoops in to rest a hand on Portia’s shoulder. “I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I have an introduction to make.” Her cheeks are already heating, and Portia looks similarly red.

“I, I’m—forgive my rudeness.” She bobs in a curtsy.

The High Priestess glides forward, her robes rippling. “Think nothing of it, my dear. There is little use for manners with visitors so far between.” She raises a wingtip to Nadia’s cheek. “Child, you have grown yet again.”

“It has not been long since my last visit.”

“Not in body. In heart.” The High Priestess rotates her head toward Portia.

“High Priestess, this is Portia. My wife. Portia, this is… an old friend.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Portia says. She holds out a hand before pausing, as if not sure what part of the owl to shake. Instead, she drops into another curtsy, this one playful. “Thanks for looking after Nadia.”  
  
Galaxies twinkle in the High Priestess’s eyes. “Yes, well,” Nadia cuts in, “I wondered if Portia could seek your counsel. She is on her way to becoming a magician, you see.”

The High Priestess’s head spins all the way around before she answers. “I see. Why do you not trust your own intuition, Nadia?”

“It led me here. I… was I mistaken?”

“Not mistaken. An answer already came to you, before you found me.” To Portia, she says, “Our Nadia has always been like this. Studiously taking notes and seeking solutions.” Seeing Portia eager to ask more, Nadia coughs. “Do you not have one up your sleeve, Nadia?”

“Very funny,” Nadia mutters, and reaches up her arm. “Portia, would you close your eyes?”

Portia does, and Nadia slips a bracelet around her wrist, aware of the High Priestess’s layered sight—her only family who never watched them exchange rings.

Opening her eyes, Portia gasps. She rotates the chain of star-shaped crystals, murmuring exclamations.

“May I try something?” Nadia asks. Activating her mark, she focuses on Portia’s blazing aura. She directs that energy toward the bracelet until the crystals glow and turn warm.

“Woah, what did that do?”

“It is attuned to you. From now on, it should shine near strong sources of magic. Perhaps that will help your studies along.”

“Seriously? Thank you, Nadia. Um, it isn’t cheating or anything, right?”

“Considering I consulted with the Alnazars about the enchantment—”

“Wait, you made this?”

Nadia’s face heats. “I did.”

“That’s amazing!”

“You are the amazing one, my dear.” Nadia cups Portia’s wrist, tilting it to let the crystals shimmer. “All of this comes from you.”

Portia watches the bracelet, her face transforming, before she tackles Nadia into a hug.


End file.
